Precious Moments
by CooperGirlHH
Summary: When you're a mother, every moment with your children is precious. You can never know, how many more moments there will be ... Helen Pevensie and her children. Family fic, pre TLB - reviews are more than welcome. Chapter 4: Helen and Lucy
1. Peter

**Precious Moments**

 **Summary:** When you're a mother, every moment with your children is precious. You can never know, how many more moments there will be ...

 **Author's Notes:** I've written this in summer, but I kind of fought with it since then ... or fought with myself whether I should post it or not ... here it is now. Hope you'll like it.

This was looked over twice; many, many thanks to _**awilliamsbbc.98**_ and _**JubileeKnight**_ for taking the time :)

XXX

It has been a rainy summer so far, and the upcoming week is promising no change in weather. Helen doesn't mind, not today at least. Not when she is blessed with the pleasure of having her eldest son to come for a visit.

Peter is always busy these days. He is on his way to finish his studies in physics and maths, and unlike his younger brother, who is spending his time off college at home, Peter has engaged himself in a time-consuming summer project at university.

This particular weekend, however, he has managed to get enough off-time to get himself on a train to London and spend a full three days with his family – making up for the fact that he will not make it home for his twenty-third birthday that is about to come up.

Much to Helen's joy she found that Friday afternoon happens to belong just to the two of them with her husband and Susan still at work, Edmund still out in the park (probably playing one of his silly ball games) and Lucy visiting a friend for tea.

Giving her eldest a fond look Helen puts tea and biscuits on the table. _The boy looks exhausted_ , she thinks.

Sitting at the small kitchen table, Peter watches quietly as Helen fills his tea cup up to the brim, but shakes his head when she pushes the tin of biscuits towards him.

"I'd better not," he says with a sheepish half-grin. "I really ought to shed a few pounds; I haven't had much time for sports lately, and I'm afraid it's starting to show."

Looking him over closely Helen does notice that the button-down shirt he is wearing stretches a just little tighter over his abdomen than it did when she bought it for him some months ago. But it isn't much really, if he hadn't said anything she might not even have noticed.

As it is, she finds herself even rather more pleased by it than anything else. "University food seems to agree with you," she remarks, kissing the top of his head from behind. He is in need of a haircut, she notices, but somehow she likes how his blond bangs cover his forehead. _He also needs a shave_ , she thinks, finally sitting down opposite him with her own cup of tea.

Peter smirks at her. "I would suspect that it's more my new roommate who is to be blamed. Apparently his parents own the best restaurant that can be found in all of Glasgow, and he practically grew up in their kitchen."

Helen smiles. "Don't worry … you just start training again when you've got time and you'll be skinny again soon enough, dear."

"Not _skinny_ , Mum. _Athletic_ would be the word." With a shrug, Peter bends forward and snatches a biscuit from the table, despite his words. "Besides, to tell you the truth, I don't really care so much about that." He grins again. "What irks me, though, is that Ed beats me at running these days. Can you believe that?" And in one bite he downs the biscuit.

Helen has to laugh heartily at her son's words. "Well, he does little else but running around in the park lately … it is probably no wonder." Then she sobers up, looking a little concerned. "It bothers me, quite honestly."

"How come?"

Looking down at her hands, folded before her on the table, Helen sighs. "I don't think your brother has got his priorities right." Shaking her head, she waves off the topic. "But that's something I'll have to discuss with him."

At these words Peter lets out an amused snort and helps himself to another biscuit. "Good luck with that then," he says cheerfully around a mouthful. When Helen doesn't reply, he raises an eyebrow, offering, "I can have a word with him, if you want."

"That's kind of you to offer, dear, but no, I had better talk it through with him myself," Helen replies, knowing very well that Peter has got enough on his plate without having to sort out her – or rather _Edmund's_ – problems. To make this clear she pointedly changes the subject. "Lucy mentioned the other day, that you're going to the Professor's for a visit, next weekend?"

Peter nods, munching away on another biscuit.

"How lovely. Is Susan going to come as well?"

"No, just Lucy and Edmund so far. We did ask Susan along, but she declined … Eustace will come, though, and that friend of his, Jill … We told you about Jill, haven't we?"

They probably had, but Helen doesn't remember. She isn't too interested in that person, either; her mind is with her eldest daughter. "What about Susan? Any idea why she doesn't want to go? A weekend out of London might do her good."

"Mum ... she's got her own head. And that is probably keeping her busy enough, what with all the make-up and hair spray that needs to be applied." Peter's tone has become uncharacteristically snide as he says this and Helen is a bit perplexed.

 _When did he get so cynical_? After all, this was a comment she might have expected from one of her two youngest, but not from Peter.

Indeed, he looks a little guilty, when he realises himself how unkind he has been. "Sorry Mum. It's just that dating seems to be all that interests her lately."

"But that's not too unusual, given her age, is it? How about you, by the way? Are there any girls lining up on your doorstep?"

"Mum!"

"Sorry, dear… A mother's just curious."

He shakes his head – and pushes back the bangs that have fallen into his eyes. "Even if there _were_ any applicants – and I'm not saying there _are_ – I really don't have time for that, what with exams, assignments and internships. Dating can ... no it _must_ wait."

"If you say so, dear." Helen can not help feeling somewhat disappointed with his answer. For a while now she has been hoping he would bring someone home to introduce as his girlfriend (or maybe even more). Impressively built at over six feet he is such a handsome lad, and it can't be that the young women out there haven't noticed it yet.

Seeing his mother's disappointment Peter's expression momentarily wavers between gentle understanding and annoyance. Being Peter, he finally settles for the first. "Look here, Mum, you mustn't worry about that … I'm quite sure the family will be extended soon enough."

"Yes, dear, you're probably right." She would have to say more on that topic, but unexpectedly there is a rumbling sound coming from the front door, then they hear as it is unlocked and, a moment later, banged shut again.

Peter grins. "Sounds like Ed's in," he says, his eyes lightening up at the thought of seeing his brother. "He'll be thrilled I am home already." He gets up and glances at the kitchen door and then at Helen. "You mind?"

"No, no … go on!"

"Good …" On his way to the door, he suddenly hesitates, turns around and asks, "are you sure you don't want me to set him straight about priorities?"

Helen smiles. "Perfectly sure. Just you two enjoy the time you have together."

Peter laughs happily. He is half out the door, causing for a cheerful, "Pete! You're here! Why didn't you dafty say you'd be so early?" to erupt from the hall.

Helen giggles silently to herself. Knowing that for the rest of the day her boys will be inseparable, she quickly calls after Peter, "I love you, darling!"

He sticks his head back in. "And I love you, Mum!" And then she can hear both of her sons dart out the front door again, heading down to the park, no doubt.


	2. Susan

**A/N:** Here's part II :)

XXX

It's another gray and rainy day; in fact, all of the past week it has been this way. London in this weather is a dull and bleak affair, and Helen had a hard time keeping her spirits up these last few days.

Of all of her children only the youngest is at home, but even she is busy, brooding over books and preparing herself for her studies. Unlike Susan, Lucy is ambitious when it comes to her education and, although still uncommon for young women, she is keen on following her brothers to university. She says she wants to become a medical doctor one day.

Helen has just made herself a cup of hot tea and sits in the armchair by the window when the door is opened tentatively and Susan sticks her head in.

Helen smiles at her daughter. "Susan! I didn't know you were there," she says, surprised. "Didn't you say you had a date?"

"Not quite yet, Mum," replies Susan. Her hair is already done and her lips are deeply red with lipstick. "Dave will pick me up in half an hour. And I need your help, I'm afraid."

The word help makes Helen listen up. It has become very rare for her children to be in need of help from her, these days. "What is it, dear?"

Hesitantly Susan slips through the half-opened door. She is holding one of her nicest dresses, draped over her arm. "I was just getting dressed up when I realised that this doesn't quite fit properly anymore." She hands the bundle of red fabric to her mother. "Do you think you could just make it a little tighter before Dave's going to be here?"

Helen frowns but gets out of her armchair nonetheless. "That's little time," she says. "But let's see what we can do."

Susan looks decidedly relieved at that. "Thanks Mum. I'll put it on, I'll be right back."

While her daughter is out to get changed Helen goes to fetch her sewing machine. She hasn't used it too much lately but she does remember using it a lot when her children were little.

Both of her younger ones had to wear their elder siblings' hand-me-downs (the family had very little money when the children were small), and that has been little bit of a challenge. Peter and Lucy, taking more after their father, have both been a little on the chubby side until the age of around six, not losing much of their puppy fat before they started school. The two middle ones on the other hand have been stick thin from the time they could walk. Hence, getting Lucy to fit into Susan's old clothes has been a feat, more so even than getting Peter's clothes small enough to not make Edmund look not completely ridiculous in them.

Helen's thoughts are interrupted by Susan coming back in, wearing the red strapless dress. It is supposed to enhance her slim waist, but it is hanging loosely. Helen frowns once more, taking in her daughter's bony shoulders and thinking that the dress is quite small enough as it is. How come that it is still too wide on her daughter?

But she swallows down her concerns, telling herself that her twenty-two-year-old offspring can probably very well decide herself what is good for her. Helen reminds herself, not for the first time, that she has vowed not to be overprotective anymore, thinking that it has been doing no good to anyone in the past.

"Turn around and let me put pins where it's too wide," she says. While working on the dress, she asks casually. "Are you going to a restaurant with this … Dave, was it?"

"No, we're going to a dancing club."

"Oh, that's nice." It has been a while since Helen has been out to dance with her husband.

Susan turns around her head and smiles at her mother. "Thank you for helping me out."

Helen presses a tentative kiss to the back of her daughter's head, thinking, _when did she get so tall_?

"Careful, Mum." Susan's hand moves to her head feeling for the neatly bound bun, that is holding her long dark hair in place. "It took me hours to get the hair done"

"Sorry dear." Putting in the last pin Helen lays a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "I'm done with the pins, would you please take off the dress so I can sew it?"

"Sure, Mum."

"While I'm at it, you could go and get yourself some biscuits from the pantry. I made ginger biscuits. Weren't those always your favorite, dear?"

Susan shakes her head and smiles. "No, those were Lucy's favorite, don't you remember?"

"Of course," says Helen, shaking her head. How could she forget?

While she sits sewing on the dress, she inquires, "did you talk to Peter, lately? You were out all weekend when he came to visit. He was quite disappointed he missed you."

Susan nods, looking a little guilty. She is sitting, legs crossed and hands folded, opposite her mother, watching her work on the dress. "He phoned me at the office the other day. He and the others are planning to visit the professor over the weekend."

Helen looks up from her work for a second and then back at her busy hands. "He told me, too. Actually, Lucy mentioned it a couple of times, as well. She is very unhappy about the fact that you're not coming, by the way."

Now Susan looks uncomfortable and also a little annoyed, which is uncharacteristic. "The professor and his old stories are not quite so interesting for me anymore, see? I'm still grateful for the weeks we spent at his home, but that was years ago. Life goes on."

"Nobody doubts that, Su."

Rolling her eyes, Susan replies, "actually all three of my siblings seem to disagree."

Helen is puzzled. "How come? They've all developed so much these years past. Peter's nearly done studying, Lucy's just been accepted to college and Edmund –"

"That's not what I'm talking about, Mum."

"But –"

Susan sighs, deeply. "Can we not talk about it right now?"

"Alright, dear, of course." Renewing her efforts on the dress, Helen swallows down another surge of worry.

It is something she has realised a while ago; Susan seems to have drawn away from her siblings, while the other three have drawn closer. It's as if there is an invisible wall building between the three of them on one side and Susan on the other. And it seems as if Susan is suffering from it. Is this maybe the reason why her daughter is getting unhappier all the time, resulting in her getting thinner and thinner because of her unhappiness?

However, every time Helen has tried to bring up the subject, Susan just closed up.

Talking to others has not really helped, either. Peter brushed off the topic as being "complicated", Edmund told her quite bluntly to "talk to Lucy about that" and Lucy said that Susan was "the one being stubborn", but didn't go into detail on what she is being stubborn about.

Finally all seams are done and Helen gives the dress back to her daughter.

Susan beams. _Lovely, sweet, beautiful Susan_.

It is exactly that moment that the doorbell rings.

"Shall I get the door, while you get dressed?" Helen asks, getting to her feet.

But Susan shakes her head. "No, I'll just be half a minute. Dave won't mind." She bends over to kiss her mother's cheek. "Thanks for your help, Mum."

She is almost out the door when Helen calls after her, "I love you, sweetheart."

She turns to grin back at her. "And I love you, Mum."


	3. Edmund

**A/N:** Here's part III - please read the Author's notes at the end!

XXX

It is the first dry day of the week, but the sky is still heavily overcast, and the large puddles out on the street haven't dried yet. It's been days since Helen has last left the house on her own accord, without any errands to run. As little as she enjoys being scooped up in the small house, she enjoys the moistness outside even less. It is the sort that creeps into your clothes and makes you uncomfortably cold, even in summer.

It is no reason, however, for her youngest son to leave out any chance to attend his latest passion of playing silly ballgames, making Helen think that he could just as well throw himself right into the greatest puddle in the park and roll over – at least, that was how she would have called it.

He calls it rugby.

Whyever he has chosen that sport to be his most frequented pastime these days, Helen can not quite understand, especially when he is quite good at other sports as well.

It's during moments like these when she wishes he would have picked something different, like tennis maybe – moments when he comes home not only covered in mud but also bruised and with a split lip.

But it is the happy grin he wears, that always makes her unable to scold him.

When Edmund comes into the kitchen, however, she notices that this time he is favoring his right leg as well. He is about to drop down at the kitchen table when Helen blocks his way. Bruised leg or not, he isn't going to sit at her table in this state of filthiness. Thank goodness he has at least pulled his shoes off already – but then again, even his socks are dirty!

"Get yourself out of these clothes and washed up first," she reprimands him, but gently.

Grinning still Edmund pulls off the dirty jersey shirt right away before limping back to the kitchen door. Helen watches him, half-proud and half-concerned, taking in the heavy bruises that cover his wiry torso ( _whenever did he get so muscular_?). She begins to wonder if there was any way to forbid him playing that game. But then, she has to remind herself, he is going to be twenty in autumn; she can't forbid him much at all anymore these days.

As much as she is annoyed by his filthy appearance, seeing him limp like that makes Helen turn soft, and she can't help asking, "do you think you'll make it up the stairs with that leg?"

He snorts. "I made it all the way back from the park. I think I shall be alright with a few steps."

"Alright then, dear," says Helen. And after thinking a moment, she adds, "would you like a sandwich or something else when you're washed up?"

Edmund is almost out the door but turns back, shaking his head. "No extra work on my account, Mum, please. I can wait until dinner."

But dinner isn't until in two hours, and Helen prepares her son a sandwich anyway, knowing full well that he will eat it, despite his words.

Ten minutes later he is back at the kitchen table, clean, in comfortable clothes and with his hair still wet from the shower, slouching in one of the kitchen chairs. He rolls his eyes at the plate Helen puts down before him but tucks into the food nonetheless, just as she has expected him to.

Helen sits down opposite him, watching him intensely.

After a while Edmund stopps chewing and raises his eyebrows at his mother. "What is it?" he asks around a mouth full.

Helen puts on a frown. "Edmund, would you please swallow your food down before you speak!"

"Quit staring at me," he retorts. But then he narrows his eyes, looking suspicious. "Did I do something wrong?"

Helen sighes, looking down at her hands, folded on the table before her. "I've been meaning to bring up this topic since the beginning of the summer break, but there wasn't a good time, yet. Anyway, your father and I think I would be better if you quit the rugby team at university to concentrate more on your studies."

He stopps chewing again, his mouth wide open. "Mum!"

"Edmund, it's getting out of proportion, don't you think? You failed two important exams at the end of your last term. And that was only your second term at college, it's not going to get easier in the future!"

Edmund is sitting straight now, staring at her in open disagreement. "That's not as big a deal as you make it sound," he protests hotly. "I can always take the exams again at the end of next term."

Helen nods and shrugs at the same time. "Maybe, yes … but then there will also be other exams and assignments. Besides, what makes you think you'll do better next time when you spend every other evening rolling about in the mud and running after a ball? I mean, just look what it's doing to you!" She can't help glancing down to hint at his injured leg.

Of course, being Edmund, he is stubborn. "But it's something I'm really good at, Mum! You know, in fact the coach even mentioned the other day that I could could make it into a professional team and I was thinking that maybe –"

He can't be serious! Uncharacteristically for her, Helen slams her hand flat on the table. "Nonsense!" she scolds. "Don't you even think about it!"

But her flash of temper is short-lived as always, and she calms herself again quickly, pointing out, "you worked so hard to get where you are. For years you've talking about studying politics after school and now you're suddenly thinking about throwing it away? For rugby?"

"Not throw it away, Mum, don't be so over-dramatic ... I thought I could maybe just postpone it ... carry on later."

Helen has heard enough. "I ought to have Peter have a word with you, after all. You know, he's had to give up on his athletic career as well, to get his studies completed."

At the mention of his older brother's name, Edmund sinks back into his chair and runs a weary hand over his face. As close as her boys are these days, he still does loath being compared to Peter, and probably rightfully so. Helen has long since made sure that people stopped doing it.

But today is a different matter. "I heard you're all going to the Professor's over the weekend. I think it would be a good idea to discuss the topic with your brother."

"Sure," says Edmund, sounding sarcastic. "Because Peter-Perfect just knows everything, doesn't he?"

Helen is beginning to feel frustrated with him, when her eyes meet her son's and his anger suddenly subsides. "Sorry, Mum." He reaches out to cover her hand with his own. "I didn't mean to be so snide."

"I know, Edmund," Helen says and swallows down her frustration. "I know."

His hand is still lying on hers, squeezing gently. "I tell you what; I promise I will talk to Pete, see what he has to say about it and I'm also going to work through some books over the holidays, too." His eyes dart downwards. "Can't do much sports with the dratted leg anyway."

"Maybe you should see a doctor about it," Helen suggests.

"No, thanks." He laughs and, letting go of Helen's hand, he gets up and limps towards the kitchen door.

"Where are you going?" she calls after him.

"To study."

A smile comes over her lips. "Good luck then."

He gives her a lopsided smirk in response.

"And Edmund?"

"Mum?"

"I love you."

The smirk gets wider, brightening up his handsome features. "I love you, too, Mum."

XXX

 **A/N:** It's been brought to my attention by both of my awesome beta-readers ( _ **awilliamsbbc.98**_ and _**JubileeKnight**_ ), that having (the reformed) Edmund fail tests at university might be OOC. I thought about it long and intensively but somehow he was quite stubborn about it, insisting that it wasn't that big a deal (like he told Helen) and he'd easily manage getting his studies done anyway (cheeky bugger). If you're vexed by this though, let me know via review, and I'll give you an explanation why it does fit in with my perception of his character!


	4. Lucy

**A/N:** Here comes the last part!

XXX

For the first time in what seems like ages the sun is shining timid rays through the thick, dark clouds that have casted over the dull English sky so heavily for weeks on end. Seeing as this is the loveliest day of the week – _and who knows what the rest of the month shall bring?_ – Helen has decided to go for a long walk, to finally catch a little bit of fresh air.

When she returns, she is a little surprised to find her youngest daughter curled up in the living-room armchair by the window, fast asleep and clutching a thick book on her lap.

For a moment Helen just stands there and watches Lucy silently. She is such a sweet thing – just looking at her like this, her hair unruly, pretty features all relaxed, makes Helen want to hold on to her and never let her go again.

But Lucy will go. She has turned eighteen in this spring, finished school and is about to be leaving for university after summer – and then Helen will see as little of her as she does of her older brothers these days.

Quietly, Helen finally passes by her daughter's seat, meaning to slip into the kitchen unnoticed, where dinner needs to be cooked, when a sleepy voice holds her back. "Mum?"

"Oh dear." Helen turnes and smiles at her. "I didn't mean to wake you up, Sweetheart."

Rubbing her eyes with her knuckles Lucy sits up straight and yawns. "I wasn't supposed to fall asleep, so I'm glad you did wake me."

"Are you alright, darling?"

"Perfectly fine, Mum. Just a little tired from reading, is all."

"Maybe you should allow yourself a break then," Helen suggests, sitting in the armchair opposite her daughter. She inspects the tome Lucy is still holding on her lap. "Human medicine? Lucy, are they expecting you to have learned the human anatomy by heart before you even _start_ college?"

Scrunching up her small nose, Lucy shrugs. "I'm not silly," she says. "I know, there will be a man's world waiting for me out there. So I wanted to get a headstart on all the blokes who will think that a girl can't compete with them. And, of course, everything's different here …"

"What do you mean, _here_?"

"Oh, er … nothing really." Lucy blushes and puts the book on the windowsill.

Helen bends forward a little so she can touch her daughter's knee. "Lucy, are you scared of going to university?"

Her daughter shrugs, avoiding Helen's eyes in an uncharacteristic manner. "Sort of … a little bit, anyway." She seems to think about it for a moment, then she adds, "well, not scared really. More like timid. I don't know …"

"You'll do great!" Helen says encouragingly. "Haven't you always been the most courageous of my children?"

"Have I?" Lucy looks genuinely surprised. "I don't know … with two big brothers – and a big sister too – how does a girl need to be courageous?"

"Now now, don't sell yourself short, sweetie."

Lucy smiles shyly, and Helen is almost a little worried. _When did her gay little girl get so subdued_? Is it the prospect of growing up? The fear of finding herself in a world where she will have to prove herself without the constant assurance of having her elder siblings looking out for her? Whatever it is, Helen is sure that she will find out, sooner or later.

There is no better way to create the perfect atmosphere for getting someone to talk than offering a hot cup of tea and a nice piece of cake. One look at her youngest tells Helen that Lucy is indeed in need of both.

When she has organised everything neatly on the small table, which is placed next to the armchair Lucy is perched in, Helen sits back down and decides it is a good time to ask Lucy something she has meant to talk about for a while now. "Sweetie, do you think you could maybe have a word with your sister about that visit to the Professor's you're all planning?"

At the question Lucy looks sincerely surprised. "Why would I?"

"Because you mentioned several times you would have liked her to come – and when I talked to Peter about it –"

"You talked to Peter about it?"

"When he was here, last weekend, yes," Helen says, giving her daughter a curious look. "Why? Should I have not?"

Lucy shakes her head. "Well … I don't know. Peter's a little on the outs with Susan lately … we all are, really."

"But whyever would you be?"

Sitting on her heels in the small armchair, her feet buried under her skirt, teacup in hand, Lucy regards her mother thoughtfully. "She's headed in the wrong direction, Mum. We tried to talk to her, but she doesn't want to hear it. I think she's lost her faith."

Sipping on her own tea, Helen asks, "lost her faith? In what?"

"In us, Mum. In the four of us. We've been through so much together, and now she just keeps looking the other way."

Shaking her head Helen has to admit that she can't make much sense of her daughter's words. "But Sweetheart, why would she have lost faith in you? She loves you all so much."

"Does she?" Lucy raises a brow.

"Lucy!"

Before Helen can say more, her daughter waves off her own proposition. "Sorry Mummy, that was uncalled for, I know. It's just that it is so frustrating talking to her these days."

"But couldn't you make her go with you? Your father and I will spend the weekend away as well, see? And would hate to know she'd be here all by herself. She seems so unhappy all the time and I don't want her to feel left out."

The cake is gone and the tea is all but drunk, as Lucy reaches for her book once more. "As I said Mum, I tried before. She's unhappy because she looks for happiness in the wrong places. And she doesn't want us to help her look in the right ones." Suddenly her eyes seem a little glassy and she rubs her nose with the back of her hand, a gesture that strongly reminds her mother of her second youngest.

Helen offers her her handkerchief, but Lucy shakes her head. Finally she says, "Susan wants to be a grownup. I mean, I know we all have to grow up. But it's not nearly as easy as Susan pretends it is. I … I am not enjoying it so far. And I don't think Peter and Edmund are, either."

"It's normal to be a little anxious, dear."

"I know." She sniffs and wipes her nose once again.

"And your brothers are doing quite well. Most of the time, anyway."

"Mum –"

"And so will you, dear."

Through her tears, Lucy smiles at her mother. For a moment she looks as if there was a lot more on her mind to say, but then she just settles for, "I love you so much, Mummy."

"I love you, too, Sweetheart, I love you, too. Whatever the future will bring, do not ever forget that!"

XXX

 _The End_


End file.
